


bold, beautiful prosperity

by halfwheeze



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Discussion of Potential Character Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Hints of Possessive Behavior, M/M, Steve/Sam is just mentioned, blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:03:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfwheeze/pseuds/halfwheeze
Summary: there are stargazer lilies crawling up his sternum but bucky still makes tony breakfast, still goes downstairs to make him laugh, still loves him and loves him and loves him.





	bold, beautiful prosperity

**Author's Note:**

> first dip of the toe into hanahaki disease, but we'll see how this goes!

It’s nothing more than Bucky deserves. 

He’s been coughing up stargazer lilies for two weeks, hiding his infection behind flirtatious smiles and quick remarks, but something tells him that Stevie likely knows. Steve has always known when something is wrong with Bucky, has always known when shit is going down hill. Bucky lost his heart to a guy so far out of his league that they aren’t even playing the same sport, and now he’s paying the consequences. It’s natural. Steve pats his back before every single time Bucky ever goes down to the workshop, soothes him as he cooks lunch to take down there, places a purely platonic kiss on his temple as Bucky moves past him toward the elevator. 

He brings down the breakfast burritos that he’s made to share with Tony and he zips his lips. He doesn’t say a word as Tony begins to excitedly chatter at him, knowing that Bucky always wants to hear about whatever technological field that Tony is revolutionizing today, knowing that Bucky always wants to hear him talk. There is no platonic explanation for the way that Bucky behaves around Tony, but the Stark ignores that; it’s a sentiment that Tony obviously doesn’t return. It’s not something that Bucky wants to ruin with what little time he has left with Tony by spreading out into the air. 

If Bucky was normal, he would die next month. Because of the constantly performing super soldier serum, he likely has half a year, even if he continues to see the cause of the flowers every single day. It was hard to convince some of the tower doctors to keep Bucky’s condition private, but it’s ultimately his choice. Only his next of kin is entitled to the information, and only when there’s less than a month until effects become permanent. Less than a month until Tony Stark kills him. 

He knows that that’s how Tony would see it, if Bucky told him. Tony would cry and pity and pay for the surgery to get the flower growth removed, but Bucky can’t have that. He would rather die after half a year of being in love with this beautiful man of the future, man of light, than be cursed to never know how to love him again. He can’t imagine falling out of love with Tony; it’s a hallmark of the future. Even Steve had done it apparently, though his blood brother told him about talking himself out of it because Tony was still with Pepper at the time, and being glad of leaving himself open to fall in love with Sam. 

Bucky doesn’t know if he’s as strong in character as Steve, and it shows in the way that he brings Tony breakfast even though it’s eleven in the morning. He brings it this late because this is when Tony’s morning nap ends, and he knows that because he knows too much. He wants to learn as much about Tony has he can before he has to go, because it’s just leaving. Dying is just leaving and Bucky has done it before. 

“Snowflake!” a sleepy Tony cheers, rubbing at his eyes, “You bring me somethin?” Bucky likes the way that Tony slurs a little with sleepiness, not unlike the way he used to slur with drink, but Tony hasn’t touched a bottle in over a year. The breakfast burritos go onto the work table closest to Tony; Bucky knows how the other man is about being handed things. Tony makes an excited humming noise, darting from the couch where he had been sleeping onto the workbench, sliding it closer to the table. He digs into the burritos and Bucky smiles, pleased with the way that Tony trusts his food. None of the other members of the tower had when Bucky first moved in, and maybe that’s part of the reason why he had taken a shine to Tony in the first place. The trust is more gratifying than anything else could be. 

“It good?” he asks gruffly, a teasing smile pulling at his mouth. Tony hums again and holds it out for Bucky to try, looking for all the world like an excited six year old. Bucky feels the rush of fondness and the need to cough, but he just takes a bite instead, maintaining eye contact with Tony while eating out of the man’s hand. Tony colors and looks down, biting his lip. Even upon meeting, Tony had been much more shy than Bucky had expected; the tabloids paint him as some charismatic playboy, which Bucky supposes Tony is in public, but less so in private. In private, Tony is delicate, caring, almost nervous in his own home. Bucky wants to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe. 

“Um. Anyway. You must be down here for something other than bringing me food, right? Whattaya need, Frosty?” Tony asks, just as he always does. He never believes that Bucky just wants to take care of him, even as Bucky comes every single day, usually more than once a day. Bucky holds in his sigh and hops onto one of the more solid looking counters, flashing a grin for Tony’s sake. 

“Can’t I just like the company?” he asks, a question wrapped in a tone of flirtation, and Tony smiles back. 

“You’re free to like what you want, Sarg. Wanna know what I’m working on?” Tony asks as he stands from his food, already having finished it. He downs food faster than Stevie sometimes, and Bucky would be much more worried if it wasn’t so cute to watch. When his six months are up, he’ll have to ask Stevie to keep bringing food down here. Even if his best friend has Sam to love now, someone needs to look after Tony in the meantime. The genius will let himself starve in the name of invention. 

“Gimme the deets,” Bucky answers, a turn of phrase he had picked up from Tony a few months ago. It always makes Tony grin as he does now, and Steve Rogers is grimacing somewhere about four floors up, on one of the gym levels. Bucky listens intently as Tony rambles about the components he’s putting together, the kinks he’s hammering out with the armor, the arrows he’s working on for Barton. If he can just get this one thing to work, he can totally make the explosive errors less likely to cause further hearing damage, and if he combines some of the stealth components he’s working on for Bucky’s - 

“Hey, you don’t have to work on anything for me,” Bucky interrupts automatically, not that he’s sure on how he’s going to convince Tony not to. He doesn’t want to waste Tony’s already squandered time. He already spends so much of his time locked away in the lab making weapons, making things to keep the rest of them safe, not socializing or completing any of his own needs in the interim. Bucky doesn’t want Tony to think that it’s something he worked on that killed Bucky if the soldier dies in battle. He doesn’t want a million things to happen that very well might could, and he’s too busy running the risks when Tony replies. He has to ask him to repeat himself, which he hates doing. 

“Why not?” Tony repeats, brows furrowed as he puts down whatever tool he had picked up to cross the room to Bucky. Bucky’s chest aches when Tony is closer, the lovelorn sprouts growing there sensing the tension that almost made Bucky close to tears. Tony looks as if he thinks  _ he  _ has done something wrong rather than Bucky, rather than the horrible cloying way that blood clings to the inside of his throat and makes him want to cough it up, but he can’t do that in front of Tony. Tony knows that super soldiers do not contract normal sicknesses and he will worry and he will take Bucky to medical and he will need further explanations than  _ We can’t tell you without the consent of the patient.  _

“I’m just good with my current equipment! You did really well on it, and it doesn’t need to be improved. I’m fine, Tones,” Bucky says, putting his hands up in a showing of innocence. Tony seems to realise himself in how he’s grown closer, and he stops walking forward. The two of them are approximately five feet apart, Bucky still sat on top of the counter, and Bucky just wants to make him stop looking like that. 

“You deserve better than fine, Snowflake,” Tony says. His expression is pulled into something sad, something that makes Bucky feel bad for even saying it, and he hops off of the counter. He steps closer to Tony and Tony never flinches back from him, never acts like anyone is so valid in acting, and the burning in Bucky’s chest gets worse with every step closer, but he would rather burn than let Tony hurt. He wraps his arms, one flesh and one Stark original metal, around Tony’s shoulders and pulls him in, pushing Tony’s face against Bucky’s neck. Tony was the first person of the future to hug Bucky when he came in from the cold, and, if he has his way, Tony and Steve will both be hugging him when he goes. 

“You don’ have to worry about me, pretty boy,” Bucky assures, tightening the hug a little and holding Tony just a bit closer. Tony sinks into him and something protective and possessive in the range of Bucky’s chest, past the flowers and past his traitorous heart, preens at the thought. Tony isn’t saying anything, but he is nuzzling further into Bucky, seeking comfort where he usually doesn’t. Bucky slips his arms from Tony’s shoulders and down to be around his hips, only taking a moment to make sure it’s safe before lifting the man up. Tony giggles as he’s carried to the couch, swatting at Bucky and making token protests, but his legs are wrapped around Bucky’s waist, so Bucky figures he doesn’t mind too much. 

“What are we doing?” Tony asks when they get to the couch. Bucky doesn’t really know, as he had expected Tony to climb out of his lap immediately, which is so totally not the case. Tony is firmly planted on both of Bucky’s thighs, legs spread so that his knees are on either side of Bucky’s hips. Bucky puts his hands on Tony’s hips and lower back as to stabilise him if he’s going to stay, but otherwise doesn’t make any moves to change Tony’s decision. It’s not as if he’s angry about it, after all. The flowers raging in his chest, growing and growing and growing, don’t get to express their opinion. 

“We’re sitting, I think. And you’re tellin’ me why you’re buggin’ about my equipment. What’s up, Tones?” he asks, brushing Tony’s hair behind his ears even though it’s too short, falling back immediately. Tony bites his lip and then sighs, letting his expression curl into a smile. 

“I don’t want you to get hurt because of me, Bucks,” Tony admits, tracing a pattern on Bucky’s arm. It’s the metal one, so Bucky can only kinda feel it, but his chest burns all the more for it. 

“Why do you care so much, doll? It’s not that big a deal,” Bucky says, and it’s immediately obvious that that is the wrong thing to say. Tony’s eyebrows furrow and he swats at Bucky’s chest once, obviously frustrated with something that he finds completely transparent that Bucky is being thick about on purpose. 

“I care about you, Terminator. I care about whether you’re safe,” Tony replies, the hand not still in the open air from swatting at Bucky grabbing onto Bucky’s flesh elbow, putting pressure on it and seeming to communicate all of Tony’s anxiety. Bucky tilts his chin up and Tony does the same, mirroring automatically. 

“I wasn’ sayin’ you didn’ care, Tones. I just don’t know why you care so much,” Bucky attempts to explain, but Tony just lets out a frustrated huff. 

“You can tell me to fuck off after,” Tony says, and then he’s kissing Bucky. He’s kissing Bucky and it’s warm and Bucky’s chest feels like a fucking forest fire, burning out all of the godforsaken flowers and Bucky has to stand, but he doesn’t want to break the kiss. He picks Tony up with him (Tony, who puts his hands on Bucky’s face to hold him close, Tony who keeps the kiss chaste but also keeps it going, Tony who Bucky is definitely in love with) and walks to the nearest trash can, only breaking the two of them apart as he puts Tony down, puking into the hazardous containment unit. Tony gives him a look of wide eyed concern that immediately masks into amusement. 

“You could have just told me to fuck off like I said,” Tony admonishes, falling flat with his obvious hurt. Bucky shakes his head and cough up the rest of the flowers, depositing them into the trash with the rest. 

“Look at it, Tones. Tell me what you see,” Bucky rasps, pointing into the garbage, pointing at where he had left his own blood. Tony grimaces but follows instructions anyway, looking and seeing. 

“Flowers?” he asks, sounding just the barest edge of hopeful. 

“They had to go somewhere, doll. I’m still in love with you,” Bucky says, admits, tells. He says it because he needs to say it aloud, for once, admits it because it’s not a secret to be kept, tells Tony deserves to hear it. Tony gets on his toes to kiss Bucky again, even though his mouth must taste like a garden full of blood, and Bucky puts a hand on Tony’s lower back to keep him steady. 

“I think those feelings are mutual, Sarg,” Tony replies, and Bucky kisses him again. And again. And again. And he thinks he will for a good long while. Much longer than some six months. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! let me know what you thought, and prompt me @halfwheeze on tumblr or in the comments!


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